


Take Me Home

by 5a5b5p5



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Online Friends, Pining, Sadge, So much flirting, long distance, neil knows what he wants and it’s andrew, someone get neil a glass of water, they haven’t met
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5a5b5p5/pseuds/5a5b5p5
Summary: There’s a faint huff of breath from across the line—silence followed by an incredulous “…you’re asking me to role-play meeting up with you.”“Yep,” Neil confirms. He lowers his voice a little, affecting a teasing tone. “Andrew, if you were here with me now, what would you do?”Neil is only joking, but he’d be lying if he said Andrew’s slight hitch of breath didn’t cause something within him to soar with pride. It’s times like these when he wishes he knew what Andrew looked like, if only to see if he’s blushing as hard as it sounds like he is.“Shut up,” Andrew says, sounding a little breathless. “Are you serious?”or - Neil and Andrew are online best friends who have never progressed past talking in voice calls. Despite being an ocean apart, Neil wants nothing more than to go home to Andrew.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 51
Kudos: 516
Collections: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021





	Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minyardmonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardmonster/gifts).



> For [minyardmonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardmonster) / [minyardmonster](https://mobile.twitter.com/greywarren) — hello!!!!! can you believe i got you lol? i tried something i’ve always wanted to write and i thought it fit well with the song :] i hope you enjoy it!!!
> 
> AFTG Mixtape - Song: [ Please Take Me Home ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7l7BbmQD7cWPSL9fvaUheU?si=Wc3edmt7Qfis61XQbNc7Gg) \- Blink 182

Neil logs into onto Discord for the forth time in 15 minutes, waiting for Andrew to see his latest message and huffing nervously when he sees that it remains unread. He shuffles his socked feet around the wooden floor under his desk impatiently and drums his fingertips lightly along the keys of his keyboard.

Music pushes loudly and insistently against his ears, his headphones buzzing slightly from the volume of the song he’s been playing on repeat for days on end.

He doesn’t even remember what they’d been doing at the time. He’d been in a voice call with Andrew, one earbud stuck in his ear and playing a random Spotify playlist he’d been recommended and the other keeping an ear out for anything Andrew might say.

He remembers how he’d felt when the lyrics first started. How the exact tempo of the song had matched up with his heartbeat and seemed to slam him face-first into a world of realization.

Neil checks his and Andrew’s Discord messages again. The song repeats in his headphones, lyrics spilling out mockingly.

_Oh no, it happened again_ _  
She's cool, she's hot, she's my friend_

Neil kicks his feet softly against the wall behind his desk, head pounding with headache and heart pulsing from nerves. He rereads the messages.

**Neil** : this song reminds me of you [link attached]

 **Andrew** : is it because i’m cool and hot?

 **Neil** : yes

 **Andrew** : ...

 **Andrew** : you can’t just say shit like that

 **Andrew:** you don’t even know what i look like

 **Neil** : and yet…

 **Neil** : for real though. listen to the lyrics. ur my home :3

It’s not unusual for Andrew to abruptly log off Discord after Neil says or does something particularly stupid, but Neil can’t help but feel anxious about the timing of his disappearance.

Andrew’s boundaries are a taped-off construction zone—clearly marked and clearly off-limits. In times like these, however, Neil worries he may have missed something in the Andrew terms of agreement.

He doesn’t know where these feelings had come from. He and Andrew have been online friends for nearly seven years now, ever since they’d met in a random Discord as teenagers. Neil had been new to the internet, recently moved in with his Uncle Stuart in an enormous house on the outskirts of London and a brand-new computer to mess around with. Andrew had been a Discord veteran even back then, and his cockiness and stoicism had been enough to interest Neil into initiating a conversation with him.

The stilted-ness of those first interactions never fail to crack him up, and he and Andrew often scroll through their early messages when they’re bored and need a laugh.

Despite knowing almost everything about his best friend and voice calling him for hours nearly every day, there are a few subjects they rarely dare to cross. Neil knows Andrew’s brother and cousin’s and adoptive mother’s names and birthdays. Andrew knows Neil’s exact address and has looked up his house on Google Street View on multiple occasions to tease him about its unnecessary size. Neil knows that Andrew hates mustard and only tolerates fruit if it’s chocolate-covered. Andrew knows that Neil’s father used to beat the shit out of him and that Stuart is the only family he has left. Neil knows about Andrew’s time in foster care and his life before Betsy had adopted him and Aaron.

They do not, however, know what each other look like. Neil has a pretty solid idea based off Andrew’s descriptions, but it’s obviously not the same. It’s not that they don’t _want_ to FaceTime or video call, it’s just that they’ve never done it before and it’s become something of a running joke that they could theoretically just be endlessly cat-fishing each other. It’d just be weird for Neil to ask now, seven years into their friendship, no matter how badly he wants to press that video call button during their late-night voice calls.

It’s the same deal with discussing a meet up, which Neil had just alluded to in those messages.

They don’t need to meet in real life, and Neil understands that perfectly. They don’t need to see each other or touch each other to know that they’re real, and Neil knows that Andrew prefers to keep his online and offline presence as separate as possible—Neil being to exception.

Neil doesn’t know what to do with himself much of the time nowadays. He drones through his online in the afternoons and spends an hour or so running until his legs go numb in the mornings. He logs into Discord and longs for Andrew’s deep timbre to filter through his headphones. He curses the time different between them and rants endlessly to Allison about their listless conversations. He scuffs his socked feet endlessly against the wall behind his desk, lost in Andrew’s voice and his words, wishing he were brave enough to ask for more.

Throughout it all, the music continues, mocking him.

 _  
I'd drive for hours, it's so  
You leave me nowhere to go  
  
_Neil rereads the messages again, waiting for Andrew’s icon to appear at the bottom of the screen. He kicks his feet and wipes his sweaty palms on his sweatpants and waits pathetically.

Just as the song begins to repeat a fourth time, the unmistakable chime of a Discord call causes him to jump out of his skin. His hand hovers over his mouse for a few seconds in surprise before he hurriedly accepts the call.

“Neil,” greets Andrew’s voice, low and achingly familiar. Neil sinks back into it, letting it wash over him, trying to remember when he had let himself get this far deep. Andrew’s voice is a shock to his system, and he’s instantly wide awake the sleepiness and stress seeping easily out of his body.

He gives a small cough, reigning himself in. “Drew,” he responds “how was your day?”

Andrew remains silent, and the song thrums on in the background, disconnected from his headphones now that he’s on call but no doubt filtering through his speakers just loud enough for them both to hear it. “Fine,” Andrew answers lightly, sounding a little too animated to be normal. Neil narrows his eyes at his computer screen, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

_She's unstoppable, unpredictable_ _  
I'm so jaded, calculated wrong_

Neil hums along to the music quietly, deciding to click out of Discord and type out a few more lines of his research paper in another tab. Across the line, Andrew breathes, listening to the song as it replays once again and to the rhythmic sounds of Neil’s fingertips across his keyboard.

Neil knows how Andrew gets when he has something he’s working himself up to say—how he goes from normal to stoic to silent and thoughtful. How he listens to Neil’s movements across the line just as intently as Neil always does Andrew’s, and how he revels in the surface-level distraction as his mind works elsewhere.

Neil works in silence for a few more minutes, trying his best to let his anxiety and uncertainty wash away, the calmness of being on call with his best friend brushing it away.

Eventually, Neil hears Andrew’s voice begin to filter across the line once again, and he quickly switches back to his Discord tab to stare at his little icon buzzing to life with his words. “Um,” Andrew begins, the clicking sounds of knuckles being popped coming through Neil’s headphones—a nervous habit Neil has long since given up on breaking Andrew out of. “I’ve been thinking about meeting you.”

It’s the last thing Neil had expected to hear, and he feels his mouth drop open in a small show of disbelief. He chokes on a gasp, leaning forward in his gaming chair and trying not to wince at the horrible squeaking sounds it makes. He tries his best to hide the excitement from his voice when he prompts “Oh?”

Andrew hums. “It’s not like I don’t want to, you know that,” he starts. “I’ve always wanted to see you—that’s never been the problem. I just—” he trails off, seemingly gathering his thoughts.

Neil’s mind runs wild with imagination. He imagines running up to Andrew in the airport and letting himself be swept off his feet. Seeing Andrew’s face, tracing his jawline with his thumbs and holding his head close to his chest. Meeting Aaron and Betsy and hiding away in Andrew’s room all day playing video games—arms brushing, thighs brushing, Andrew brushing his mouth over Neil’s collarbone—

Andrew’s low voice thankfully cuts off that train of thought before it can get too carried away, and Neil’s face flushes a deep red, embarrassed by his own rapidly derailing thoughts. “…I don’t know how I would deal with having you here,” Andrew finishes, letting out a heavy, slightly shaky breath.

Neil sobers almost instantly. It’s been a while since the two of them have had a serious talk like this, but Neil’s no strange to this side of Andrew—unsure and vulnerable and pissed about it.

When you’re friends with someone this long with only their voice and their words to know them by, you start to hear every their every inflection. Neil hears Andrew’s vulnerability in the minuscule shiver of his first word; in his hesitation and in the muffled tap of his fingers against his desktop. Neil gives him a gentle hum. “I understand,” he says, because he does.

Neil has never had any degree of anxiety about meeting up or making changes, but he knows Andrew does. He knows that the idea of fucking this up—or even remotely changing their relationship in a way they don’t like—would throw his whole life out of wack, at least for a little while. Neil prides himself on being a stable, all knowing presence in Andrew’s life for the past seven years, and he would never do anything to jeopardize that role. He just—wouldn’t mind trying for something more, and now he knows Andrew feels the same.

He waits, letting Andrew speak his mind before he gives his own feedback. “I think,” Andrew continues, his chair squeaking a little as he shifts “that it would be too much for me, at least right now. But. I want to… try. To work up to it.”

“Hmm,” Neil allows, feeling giddiness bubble up in his stomach despite his efforts to push it down. “Okay.”

Andrew is quiet for a minute before he huffs out a laugh, the sound of it filling Neil’s ears and swimming around his mind happily. He internally rolls his eyes at himself, wondering when he’d gotten this whipped.

“I can hear your fucking smile, dumbass,” Andrew grouches, but Neil can hear his too. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m sure,” Neil grins, before settling down once again. “How do you want to go about… working up to it?”

Neil hears Andrew lean back in his seat, letting out a quiet groan as his back pops loudly, causing Neil to wince. “I’m not sure,” Andrew admits, voice audibly more relaxes now “We could just wing it.”

Neil nods even though Andrew can’t see it, tabbing back to his research paper and trying to refocus himself. The song repeats again, and Neil hears Andrew begin to hum along to the tune.

It’s silent for a while aside from the shifting, typing, and breathing sounds coming from either of them until Neil speaks up over the music. “I meant it, by the way,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over the endlessly repeating melody. “Even if we never meet up—that’s fine. But you’re my home.”

Andrew scoffs, perhaps a little too wetly to be believable. “Whatever,” he says, voice wavering just so “you too, Junkie.” _  
  
Please take me home  
Too late, it's gone  
I bet you're sad  
This is the best time we ever had_

_~_

“I have an idea,” Neil says suddenly, loud in the previously silent voice call, smiling when he hears Andrew’s slight gasp of surprise across the line.

It’s been a few days since Neil’s messages and Andrew’s tentative proposal, and Neil’s been thinking. Andrew wants to ease into the idea of meeting each other, and Neil’s been brainstorming ways to start doing so, throwing ideas out into his empty room and waiting for one of them to bounce back off the walls.

Finally, one had. _  
  
_

Andrew humors him. “What is your idea?”

Neil hums, pausing for a few moments to mimic suspense. Andrew scoffs at his antics, but he doesn’t interrupt Neil’s little display. “Okay,” Neil begins finally, leaning back in his chair a little in satisfaction “you want to ease into the idea of meeting up, so I made up an activity.” Neil grins toothily, listening for the irregularities in Andrew’s breathing for any indication on how he’s feeling. “Just imagine if you were here.”

Andrew remains silent, before saying “I’m imagining,” a little rudely, smile evident in his tone.

Neil rolls his eyes. “ _No_ ,” he says. “Tell me about it.”

There’s a faint huff of breath from across the line, silence followed by an incredulous, deadpan “…you’re asking me to role-play meeting up with you.”

Neil grins, crossing his arms behind his head. “Yep,” he confirms. “This is Andrew and Neil simulator.” He lowers his voice a little teasingly. “Andrew,” he says in a teasing tone “If you were here with me, what would you do?”

Neil is only teasing, but he’d be lying if he said Andrew’s slight hitch of breath didn’t cause something within him to soar with pride. He and Andrew have been best friends for a long while now, and their game a half-joking flirtation has always been one of his favorites, despite how badly he seems to want it to mean more than just that as of late.

“Shut up,” Andrew says, sounding a little breathless. “Are you serious?”

Neil hums, tapping his fingertips against his desk restlessly. “Yeah,” he says “we want to make it so you’re not so overwhelmed when we meet up, right? Playing out the situation could help with that, I think.”

“Okay,” says Andrew. “If I were there I would punch you in your smart mouth.”

Neil barks out a surprised laugh, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth roughly. “No you wouldn’t,” he sing-songs, grinning into his palm “You would give me a hug at the airport.”

“Bold assumption,” grunts Andrew, but he doesn’t deny it. “I bet you would have those stupid fucking headphones on still.”

Neil huffs a laugh. Andrew teases him relentlessly about taking his gaming-marketed headphones everywhere he goes. Neil’s always raving about the convenience and comfort of them in voice calls even when he’s out and about in the city with Andrew talking in his ears. It’s a comfort, in some way, to think that even if he had Andrew in front of him they would still have all the same inside jokes to fall back on. All the hours of calls and playing games together and all the long late-night conversations behind them.

Neil opens a new tab, pulling up the song he and Andrew have listened to far too many times between them by now, letting the lyrics flood through his speakers and carry over the voice call without saying a word of his own.

_  
I hope, hope that it lasts  
Give in, forget the past  
Be strong when things fall apart  
Honest, this breaks my heart_

Andrew lets out a small wheeze of a laugh, and Neil speaks just loud enough to be heard over the song. “I’d be playing our song, of course,” he says.

Neil can almost _feel_ Andrew’s eye roll. “We don’t have a song, dumbass,” he huffs. “But I bet you would be. It’s all you listen to these days. I don’t remember the last time I looked at your icon and you weren’t listening to it on Spotify.”

That’s an exaggeration, but it’s still far too true for Neil to try and deny. “Says you,” Neil huffs instead, since that accusation could go both ways.

Andrew hums in acquiescence, and silence dominates the call once again for a while until Andrew asks “What else?”

Neil gives his Discord screen a surprised smile, please that Andrew seems to be leaning into the idea a little more now. All teasing aside, Neil thinks his idea is a pretty damn good one—it gives Andrew room to think more in depth about what meeting Neil would be like, and it gives Neil the opportunity to tease the hell out of Andrew.

“Hmm,” Neil hums, “I would stare at your face a lot,” he says, gently tapping against yet another barrier to test its strength.

“I’m sure you would,” Andrew responds, sounding a little smug.

Neil bites his lip harshly, debating how far he wants to take this and deciding _fuck it_ , perhaps unwisely. “I already know it’s a good face,” he says, letting his teasing tone of voice drop a little, “from how you sound.”

Neil hears Andrew shift around on the other end of the line, clearing his throat. “How do I sound?” Andrew prompts.

Neil tucks his nose into the hoodie fabric bunched around his neck, feeling suddenly very warm. There are millions or ways he could answer that question. He could spill—tell Andrew how simply the sound of his breathing across the line is enough to bring him back from a panic attack most days. How sometimes he sits in the London Underground train cars and hears Andrew’s voice play in his mind like a mantra. How he feels warm all over when Andrew hums lowly or indulges in flirting back with Neil or makes a stupidly, accidentally questionable sound when he dies in a video game. How his stupid joking tone brings him back and how his usual monotone brings him comfort. He swallows, throat clicking. “You sure you want me to answer that?”

Neil can imagine Andrew’s face now—his cheeks flushed and his eyebrows curved in towards one another, confusion and uncertainty etched into his expression but curiosity pushing him forward. Neil leans forward in his chair a little, listening to Andrew’s quiet breaths as he thinks of a response.

“Yes,” comes Andrew’s voice a few moments later, his voice just the slightest bit shaky.

There are plenty of things Neil could say to dig himself out of the hole he’d dug for himself, but he’s not sure if he wants to. Something about the certainty with which Andrew had said _yes_ sends a shiver down his spine, and he imagines telling Andrew everything he’s realized over the last few months right then and there, spilling his pile of messy secrets out through his mouth and waiting for them to drop on the other end of the line.

All things said and done, it would probably be less confusing if he did.

Still though, Neil is a coward, and he isn’t _stupid_ , so he doesn’t. He ramps up his teasing tone, but he’s telling the truth when he says, lowly, “I like it—your voice. It’s…” _my home, my comfort, something I can’t go a day without “_ hot.”

In retrospect, he could have been less obvious with that, but Neil doesn’t think it’s so far outside the realms of their normal joking flirtation that Andrew would think anything of it. Still though, Neil feels his face heat as the word leaves his mouth, listening for the quiet hitch in Andrew’s breath and smiling in relief and satisfaction when he hears it. He leans back in his chair, trying to calm his racing heart and thoughts.

Andrew’s chair creaks, and the song replays. “Oh,” he says simply, but he doesn’t sound surprised like Neil had hoped he would. His voice is low and rumbly, and heat sinks deep in Neil’s stomach. “Is it now?”

Neil lets out a breath, almost hoping that Andrew can hear how shaky it sounds. He grins a little, excitement and adrenaline and something slow and syrupy dripping down his spine. He loves this stupid game they play, but recently it’s started to feel different that usual. Intense. Charged. He attributes it to his newly discovered crush. Still though, he’ll play along—he’d take it as far as Andrew lets him. “Yeah,” he sighs out, letting some of that emotion and longing creep into his voice, “it is. You—you’re…” he trails off, feeling frustrated all of the sudden, unsure of what to say.

Andrew huffs a single, sharp breath. Says “It must be, then” in that same voice “if it’s what finally got you to shut up.”

Neil makes a cut off noise of protest, but he’s unable to form any sort of coherent sentence with Andrew’s low voice in his ear like that. It’s rare that Andrew flips the flirting thing around on him like this, and Neil is always unsure of how to react to it.

Andrew knows it. “So easy,” he hums, a little condescendingly, and if Neil weren’t so overwhelmed by this whole situation maybe he would have acted offended. “You do this shit to me all the time but as soon as I return it…” he trails off “you’re a mess.”

Neil clears his throat, trying to scrape himself together at least enough to respond. “Am not,” he croaks out eloquently.

“Are too,” Andrew responds readily “for me. I can hear it in your voice—you forget how well I know you, sometimes. Talking about my voice and _‘if I were there’_ like I don’t know exactly what to say to get you back for it. You’re just lucky I’m too lazy to put effort into it most of the time.”

“Shut up,” Neil huffs out, not appreciating that reminder. He likes it when Andrew gets all huffy and flustered over his teasing, and it’s always a sore reminder when Andrew throws his cockiness right back in his face, no matter how rare it is. “We should go back to the role-playing,” he grumps. “I liked it when you didn’t deny you would hug me.”

“You know I’ll stop if you tell me to,” Andrew reminds him breezily, “But you won’t. You like this too much.”

He’s right, but Neil isn’t about to admit to it. “I bet you’re all talk,” Neil says finally, regaining some of his senses. “You wouldn’t be saying this shit if you were here.”

“Hm,” Andrew hums quietly, “I suppose we’ll see someday soon, then.”

The call falls into comfortable silence, and Neil sinks back in his chair, bringing his knees up toward his chest and letting the strange tension of that conversation wash over him in waves. His brain replays Andrew’s words a thousand times over as he listens to the tap of keys across the line.

 _Someday soon,_ Andrew had said. Neil smiles.

_She's unstoppable, unpredictable_ _  
I'm so jaded, calculated wrong_

_Please take me home_ _  
Too late, it's gone  
I bet you're sad  
This is the best time we ever had_

_~_

Neil and Andrew exchange phone numbers for the first time since they’d started talking seven years ago. Neil hasn’t shut up about it since the day it had happened—Andrew had suddenly brought it up during one of their random mid-day voice calls, insisting that it would help move them forward in their little ‘easing into it’ experiment that has long since started to feel like something else entirely.

To Neil’s surprise and delight, they’ve been keeping up with the role-playing thing. Just a comment or two here and there that they can take in whichever direction they want. They can tease about it, laugh about it, be serious about it—whatever.

They’re inching forward, and it seems to be going well considering the sudden speed at which Andrew throws new things at him—not that he’s complaining.

Neil sinks into an uncomfortable train seat and kicks his legs out in front of him. He usually walks most places, but he’d had to go to some special building to take an exam for his mostly-online college course and he’s already drained enough from that. He stretches out, jolting as the train starts moving. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Neil fishes it out, pausing when he notices it’s a text message from Andrew as opposed to a Discord one. A giddy, uncertain feeling rises in his stomach at the sight, and he quickly unlocks his phone to see the contents of the message.

It’s a photo, and Neil almost throws his phone across the train car when he registers that fact. It’s taken from Andrew’s perspective—a photo of his computer set-up, displaying two large monitors similar to the ones Neil has, a sleek black desk, a light-up keyboard, and one of Andrew’s large hands splayed out over the mousepad, covering the mouse entirely. The monitor shows the Discord screen stuck on Neil’s profile, and the message below the photo reads: _get online bitch._

It’s the first photo Neil has ever had of Andrew—the first real proof he has that Andrew isn’t just some voice on the other side of the world. Neil stares at it for a long while.

The train car bumps heavily, gaining speed, but Neil can’t tear his eyes away from the photo, his eyes locked on Andrew’s hand.

Neil feels like he needs to take a walk or something—his stomach flutters as he stares down at the photo. Andrew’s strong hand enveloping the mouse, wide palm and thick fingers that aren’t even the focus of the picture.

As much as Neil likes to tease Andrew online and in their voice chats—no matter how flustered Andrew becomes or how much truth lies behind those jokes. No matter how much Neil likes to hear Andrew’s subtle reactions to his words or how confident he acts… Neil imagines that Andrew could hold him down easily with those hands.

Neil shakes himself a little, clearing his throat and glancing around the train, relieved to see that nobody is looking at him strangely after witnessing his small meltdown over a photo of his best friend’s hand.

All things considered, Neil supposes this is Andrew’s way of taking another step forward. It’s a bit faster than Neil had expected things to move, especially after seven years of nothing but voice calls, but he isn’t complaining. Neil has been ready to meet Andrew for a while now, and despite his eagerness, he feels a little breathless at the pace of these new interactions.

Neil has been an ocean of water pushing questioningly against a dam’s defenses for years now, but Andrew had opened the floodgates when he’d said he was ready to try. There’s nothing for Neil to do now but embrace it and let the water flow. Neil grins to himself and shifts lower into his seat, snapping a quick, slightly blurry picture of his lap down and the empty seats across from him. He sends it, with the caption: _would if i could._

He watches until it says that the photo has been delivered and types out an additional, extremely articulate response: _wow you actually exist huh?_

Andrew reads it, and Neil wonders if he stares at Neil’s photo in the same way Neil had stared at his, smiling as he imagines the flustered tone of Andrew’s voice. A moment passes, and then a new message pops up: _unfortunately_ and then: _you have legs_

Neil types: _wild_ and sends it. He types: _you have nice hands_ and hastily deletes it. He thinks about calling Andrew now on the train, eyeing the newly-introduced phone and video call buttons next to Andrew’s contact. It’s strange seeing Andrew’s name anywhere except for on Discord, and he’d changed his profile picture to the same one Andrew uses there straight away—a blurry photo of his old therapy cat named Salmon.

He clicks his phone off, tugging his headphones back over his ears and promptly drowns out the rest of the world as the songs familiar notes filter back through, wishing for Andrew’s voice in his ears instead.

_Please take me home_ _  
Too late, it's gone  
I bet you're sad  
This is the best time we ever had_

_~_

“If you were here,” Neil begins idly, laying flat on his back in bed with his headphones fitted snugly over his ears and Andrew connected over a voice call on his computer across the room, “I would take lots of pictures of you.”

Andrew scoffs, but it’s a fond sound somehow. “You’re so obsessed with me,” he teases, “Ever since I sent you that picture and proved to you I was real you’ve been insatiable.”

It’s the truth, and Neil smiles to his ceiling fan. Neil hasn’t outright _asked_ for more photos of Andrew, but he’s made it very, _very_ obvious that he’s a big fan of receiving them. “You just dropped it on me!” Neil starts, a well-worn argument by now. “And then you never send me another one! You’re just playing with my emotions, you cold-hearted bitch.”

Andrew says “I didn’t know you could have so many feelings about an accidental hand picture.”

“It’s _your_ hand,” Neil grouches, not for the first time, and Andrew huffs out a breath of laughter.

“Uh huh,” he says charitably. “I bet you’re just waiting for the day I randomly send you a face pic.”

Neil’s heart stutters in his throat a little at the thought—of waking up to a photo of his best friend, seeing his face, reconnecting their every conversation to make Andrew match his photo, rearranging everything in his mind to fit perfectly. The thought of Andrew being a living, breathing person with eyes and a mouth is something that’s still hard to believe on some days. “No,” he lies, because he’s not _that_ whipped.

Andrew says “A dick pic, then,” and Neil actually chokes from the force of his sudden laughter.

He shakes with it, laughing in that way only Andrew can bring out of him, going until his sides hurt and he’s gasping for air. “ _Andrew,”_ he wheezes out finally “what the _hell_?”

“You didn’t deny it,” Andrew points out. Neil can hear him opening a bag of chips.

Neil sputters, another round of laughter forcing its way out of his throat.

“Besides,” Andrew continues as if nothing had happened, ignoring Neil’s continuing laughter and crunching on his chips, “you haven’t sent any more pictures either.”

Neil calms himself and briefly indulges in the idea of proving Andrew wrong and sending a photo of his own face out of spite. “It’d be unbalanced then,” Neil whines instead, “It’s your turn.”

Andrew says “Okay,” and then falls silent. Neil tilts his head curiously, gets out of bed and walks over to his computer. He tabs out of discord and pulls up Spotify, letting one of his and Andrew’s collaborative playlists play quietly in the background of their Discord call to break the silence before laying back down.

Neil’s phone pings loudly, and his heart jumps in his chest. He glances across the room at his computer as if Andrew can see his face through the screen, his heart beating in anticipation.

He knows, logically, that it’s not going to be a picture of Andrew’s face. Still though, his hands shake a little as he picks up his phone and unlocks it. Andrew’s humming quietly over the line to a random song playing in their call, not sounding bothered in the slightest.

Neil looks down at his phone, and he lets out a strangled combination of a laugh and a cough at the sight waiting for him. It’s a photo of Andrew’s hand again, but this time it’s been taking using the front-facing camera, showing the right half of Andrew’s torso and his right arm. He’s stretching his hand out to the camera in the photo in a way Neil knows is supposed to be mocking, but Neil can’t find it within himself to be offended by it. Andrew’s room is shadowed, and there’s a dark blue tint to everything in the photo. Neil can see the contours of veins and tendons in Andrew’s wide hand, and his bicep is visibly straining against the fabric of his otherwise loose t-shirt.

Neil stares, and stares, and Andrew coughs once. “You okay?”

Neil tears his eyes away from the photo, caught. “You um—” Neil starts, cutting himself off with a cough, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“What?” Andrew prompts, a smile in his voice Neil can’t help but be fond of. “Weren’t expecting what?”

“You… look strong,” Neil mumbles.

“What?” Andrew asks again teasingly “Did you think I was some lanky gamer boy?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Neil says pointedly. “I don’t expect you to look like anything, really. Just not—like that, I guess.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Andrew agrees, deadpan. “As are you, apparently—I’d have never thought you’d be a hand simp.”

“If you were here,” Neil responds, choosing to ignore the—however correct they may be—implications of that comment, dropping his phone back to the bed beside him and stretching his arms over his head, “I would ask to hold your hand.”

Andrew hums across the line, and Neil smiles when he hears sheets rustle, imagining Andrew laying in his own bed somewhere across the ocean, headphones tucked over his ears or Discord pulled up on his phone. He listens to Andrew’s breathing, and if he closed his eyes it almost feels like Andrew could be there with him. “I would say yes,” Andrew says, voice fond and more sincere than Neil had been expecting.

“Yay,” Neil responds tiredly, shifting onto his side. “Can we cuddle when you’re here?”

“You’re pushing it, Neil,” Andrew huffs, but he doesn’t say _no_ , which Neil counts as a win.

“We’re totally gonna cuddle,” Neil confirms, shuffling around until he’s under the covers and his eyes are drifting shut. He yawns, his jaw popping. “I’ll send you the picture I owe you tomorrow,” he says sleepily.

Andrew sighs lightly. “Go to sleep, Neil,” he says, not unkindly, and Neil hums in acquiescence, letting the near-silent music and Andrew’s steady humming lull him to sleep.

_Why did we have to go date?_ _  
It's too easy to complicate  
Be strong when things fall apart _

~

Neil sends Andrew a picture of himself first thing the next morning, showing off his oversized, rumpled hoodie and the wrinkled, slightly baggy black jeans he’d fallen asleep in thanks to Andrew’s insistence.

Andrew responds: _you’re a mess_

 _only for u,_ Neil sends back, throwing Andrew’s words from last night back at him.

Andrew sends him the middle finger emoji and Neil huffs out a laugh.

The photo thing continues, much to Neil’s approval, and it’s enough to get Neil’s heart racing every time he sees a text notification from Andrew.

Andrew sends Neil teasing pictures of his hands when they’re on call together and blurry photos of his shoes on the sidewalk when he’s out and about. Neil sends pictures of his outfits for Andrew to make fun of and teases him about sending him some of Andrew’s own hoodies if he hates Neil’s so much. Andrew sends him pictures of his therapy cat Salmon and a fluffy section of his hair in the sunlight. Neil sends his collarbone when it’s exposed from the stretched-out t-shirts he wears and a video of his socked feet as he slides around Stuart’s enormous kitchen.

One day, Andrew responds to a photo of Neil’s outfit in the mirror—loose running shorts and a dark grey hoodie—with _i bet you’d look good in a skirt._

 _you fucking wish,_ Neil had sent back, a blush burning his cheeks.

Andrew had replied: sure. _would you where one if i sent it to you?_

 _no,_ Neil had said, _you’ll have to meet me in person if you want me to dress up for you._

 _for me?_ Neil could almost hear the teasing tone of Andrew’s voice through the message.

 _i said what i said,_ Neil had sent, _but if you want skirtneil you’re gonna have to work for it._

 _this is the biggest incentive to meet you yet,_ Andrew had teased.

It’s new, but it’s easy, just as things always are with Andrew. It’s teasing in voice calls and learning more about each other and loving every second of it. It’s joking flirtation making way for wholehearted infatuation. It’s breathless responses and a blush high on Neil’s cheeks at the sound of Andrew’s voice and the sight of him over photos. It feel natural, and it’s exciting to share more of himself with Andrew—to receive just as much in return.

One day in a voice call Neil had asked: “What would you do if I send you a face pic just because I’m bored?”

Andrew had responded: “Send one back, probably.”

“You’ve made a terrible mistake by telling me that _,”_ Neil had sighed out shakily.

“An eye for an eye,” Andrew had said, nonchalant.

Neil thinks about that interaction now as he slices through an aggressive amount of packing tape sealing in the contents of a package he doesn’t remember ordering. He’d gone to the grocery store that morning, returning to Stuart’s house to find a blank, nondescript package waiting on the front doorstep. His hackles had raised immediately upon seeing that there was no returning address, but they’d lowered just as quickly when he’d recognized the neat scrawl of his name on the side of it. Neil’s name in Andrew’s handwriting, familiar from nights of trading online notes in a shared Word doc using Apple Pencils and an egregious amount of Pictionary.

It’s not unheard of for Andrew to send Neil mail, though it’s usually something from Amazon and not directly from him, but Neil’s stomach still wriggles in excitement as he gets a grip on either side of the package and rips it open.

What falls out is a hoodie—soft and big and unmistakably Andrew’s. Even if Neil hadn’t seen the photo of Andrew in it the other week he would have known it was his just from looking at it—it’s dark navy in color, and it has the name of Andrew’s college printed across the front of it, cat hair stuck to nearly every inch of the soft fabric.

He’s only half-surprised that it’s not a skirt, and his stomach flutters at the thought of Andrew making good on their deal when they finally meet up.

Neil hugs it to his chest briefly before setting into action. He tosses the now-empty package into the corner of the kitchen by the trash can and races upstairs to his room. Tossing the hoodie on the bed, Neil boots up his computer hastily, eager to voice call Andrew and call him out on this behavior. He throws his old—now useless—hoodie to the floor as he navigates to Andrew’s profile, pressing the _call_ button and listening to the ringing of it echo lightly around his bedroom as he tugs his t-shirt over his head and picks up Andrew’s hoodie to put on.

He slinks into the arms of the hoodie first, pausing mid-motion when he hears the unmistakeable sound of the call connecting, glancing up at his monitor out of habit and promptly freezing in place.

On the screen is the living, breathing live-feed of a man he’s never seen before—rumpled blonde hair falling into his blurry eye, confusion clouding his expression, wide shoulders slumped forward and mouth twisted into an uncertain shape. Neil feels all his breath leave him at once, his eyes snapping over every detail of Andrew’s face as he stands, frozen, half-undressed in his bedroom.

Neil stares, and Andrew stares back in silence. Eventually, Neil watches Andrew’s mouth move in real-time. “What the fuck?” Andrew asks, voice sleep-clouded. Neil tears his eyes away from him for a split-second to check the time, wincing a little when he notices that it’s only 5am where Andrew lives.

“Um,” Neil says, eloquently, “I… meant to click the other button.”

“Obviously,” Andrew grunts out, bringing a hand up to rest his head in the palm of his hand. Neil tracks the movement incredulously, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Andrew is _right there._ He’s real and he’s perfect and he’d _picked up the call._

“You—” Neil starts, cutting himself off and going back to staring at Andrew in silence.

Andrew’s mouth quirks a little to the side, and Neil is incredibly infuriated with how calm he is in this situation. “You don’t have to make it such a big deal,” Andrew says, and Neil’s mind works as he tries to connect the amused voice he knows so well the the face he’s never seen.

“Wha—it _is_ a big deal!” Neil exclaims, watching Andrew’s face closely. “I accidentally video called you and you—you _picked up._ I’m half _naked,_ Andrew.”

“Mhm,” Andrew allows, “because it’s not a big deal.” He pauses, a small smirk tugging at his mouth, “How often do you get undressed when you’re in VC with me?”

“Oh my god,” Neil huffs in exasperation, “I can’t fucking believe you.” He shrugs into the hoodie completely now, not allowing himself to be embarrassed about the fact that he’d just accidentally shown Andrew all his scars.

“If you wanted to have phone sex you could’ve just asked, Neil,” Andrew continues to tease, his eyes finally beginning to clear and the sleepiness disappearing from his voice, his eyes moving over Neil rapidly, “We’ve known each other all this time, after all.”

“Oh my god,” Neil repeats, sputtering a little, shaky voice dipped in exasperation. “I fucking hate you.”

“That’s my line,” Andrew reminds him, and Neil actually wants to slap him upside the head with how nonchalant he’s acting, like this interaction is nothing out of the ordinary.

Neil plops into his chair, huffing and pissy and staring endlessly at Andrew’s face. It’s a good face, just as Neil knew it would be—though he’s sure he would’ve thought that no matter what Andrew looked like—and it’s simultaneously everything and nothing like what Neil had expected. Andrew’s nose is pointy and upturned, and the arches of his brows are pronounced and dark in comparison to the light shades of his golden hair. It falls into his face, and Andrew reaches an absentminded hand up to push it out of the way, keeping his hand threaded through the strands as he rests his head back into his palm.

Neil watches him, stares at him, takes mental photos of him until the image of him is engrained into his brain, happily resting at the forefront of his memories. Throughout it all, Andrew stares back, head tilted to the side and eyes dragging carefully over Neil’s form as he too commits him to memory.

Time passes, and silence stretches on until Neil finally clears his throat. “Um,” he says, giving a little cough to break the quiet, “thank you for the hoodie.”

Andrew snaps his eyes up to Neil’s, “You need clothes that aren’t older than you,” he responds.

Neil fidgets with the wrists of the hoodie, pressing his thumb under the fabric and feeling the fleece material. “Sure,” he allows, letting some confidence flicker back into his voice, trying to move passed his awe and disbelief. “I bet you just wanted to see me in your clothes.”

“Mm,” Andrew hums, deep and rumbly in Neil’s over sensitive ears. “Did my face live up to your expectations, then?”

Neil’s eyes trace the outlines of Andrew’s cheeks and the curves of his mouth, the golden glow of his hair against the rapidly rising sun. The wide stretch of his just-visible shoulders and the quirk of his eyebrow. He says “Yeah,” and lets the implications of that agreement be up to Andrew’s interpretation.

Neil leans back in his chair, mind unable to move passed the fact that Andrew’s _entire face_ is _right there._ That this is _Andrew_ —the same Andrew who’s been listening to his problems since he was 12 years old and fresh out of his mother’s overwhelming clutches. The same Andrew that had told Neil he’s still a little afraid of the dark and the same Andrew who’s wisdom tooth surgery had scarred him for life when he’d accidentally come out of the closet under the anesthetic in year 9.

This is the same Andrew who’s childhood trauma gives Neil’s a run for his money. The same Andrew that punched his brother’s bully in the face and the same Andrew that Neil has been wanting to meet in person for years now. The same Andrew who’s hands he wants to hold him down and the same Andrew who’s voice is enough to calm him down or rile him up, depending on the day.

This boy with amber eyes and a halo of blonde hair and a sliver of a scar across the line of his nose—that’s Andrew.

Neil sinks deeper into his chair, letting out a small groan as the events of his day hit him all at once. It’s not even noon yet, but Niel feels like he desperately needs a nap. Neil stares and stares until his eyes begin to droop, and the silence stretches comfortably as Andrew stares back. He curls up in his chair, bringing his knees to his chest and propping his feet on one of his armrests. Andrew has started working on something on his other monitor, and Neil watches his eyes flit between Neil and his work every couple seconds.

Neil says “You… are so pretty,” and watches as Andrew’s distracted eyes zero back in on Neil, his eyebrow raising.

“Pretty,” Andrew repeats, sounding out the word, “that’s a new one.”

“Well,” starts Neil, shuffling his face down further into Andrew’s hoodie and shivering when he thinks about the fact that this is what _Andrew_ must smell like—something deep and too complicated for Neil to explain. “I can call you hot and stuff without knowing what you look like.”

Andrew smirks a little, and maybe on another day Neil would have teased him about his overconfidence—as it is though, with Andrew’s face in perfect HD and a dimple tugging at the skin of his cheek, Neil’s in no mood to lie and say it doesn’t look good on him.

After a while more of easy silence, Neil asks “What about me? Do I meet your expectations?”

Andrew hums, fiddling with something Neil can’t see somewhere behind the screen. His eyes flick over Neil’s face. “I’d say so,” he says. “You look like Neil.”

Neil smiles, “Good,” he says, “You look like Andrew.”

That was all that mattered in the end, anyways.

_Honest, this breaks my heart_

_Let's go!_

~

“You should really consider investing in an iron,” Andrew says as Neil shows him yet another wrinkled button-down that had been shoved in the back of his closet. Andrew’s voice is muffled into his pillow as he lies on his side in his bed, his phone propped somewhere among the blankets to show only the right side of Andrew’s face, illuminated only by the blue tinge of his LED lights.

It’s jarring, still, to see Andrew’s face before him so casually—to be able to have this after all these years. They haven’t been doing it often—video calling, that is—but the fact that they’re doing it at _all_ is enough to make Neil’s stomach flutter whenever he thinks about it.

Currently, Neil is sprawled out on the carpeted floor of his bedroom, rummaging through the discarded floor at the bottom of his closet and trying to find a shirt fancy enough to wear. Stuart’s sister is getting married, and Neil is being forced to attend despite the fact that he’s spoken to the women maybe two times in his life.

Neil had found over the years that it’s easier just to go along with Stuart’s theatrics. He vaguely recalls the first time Stuart had forced him into going to a formal brunch and Neil had snuck out through the bathroom window to sit on the bench out the front of the venue and voice call Andrew.

Andrew yawns, his jaw popping loudly, reminding Neil that it’s still only eight in the morning where he lives. Neil smiles to himself, trying to smooth out a wrinkle in a stripy blue button-down. “You can go back to bed,” Neil reminds him. “I can figure this out myself.”

“Doubtful,” Andrew responds groggily, eyes blinking blearily at his phone screen. “You can hardly dress yourself for a normal occasion.”

Neil scowls at him but doesn’t try to refute him, staring at the pile of wrinkled shirts now discarded on the floor. He flops onto his back on his carpet, letting out a frustrated groan. “I don’t wanna go,” he whines.

Andrew scoffs, and Neil blinks his eyes open just enough to glare at him through the screen. “Then don’t go,” he says, like it’s that simple. “Stay here with me.”

“Andrew,” Neil complains, because there’s nothing he wants more than to stay in call with Andrew right now. To listen to his breathing as he falls back asleep or have him talk Neil through his day as he get ready.

“Neil,” Andrew responds teasingly, mimicking him. “Just tell Stuart you’re sick or something. I want to talk to you.” He meets Neil’s eyes through the screen, and Neil feels butterflies erupt in his stomach at the sight of the glinting golds and brown, squinting in the sunlight.

Neil glances around himself at the piles of wrinkled cloth and nonsense, letting out a sigh as he picks up his phone, swiping away from Andrew’s face to send Stuart a text. “You’re a prick and you tricked me,” Neil complains half-heartedly.

“Mm,” Andrew hums, “I know you can’t resist me.”

Neil swipes back to Andrew’s face, glaring down at him from an unflattering angle. “I haven’t sent the message yet,” Neil lies. “Maybe I _should_ go…”

“Noo,” Andrew complains, dragging the word out. “I’ll be bored all day without you, Neil.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you tried to be all smug,” Neil replies, thumb tracing idly over the line of Andrew’s shoulders through the screen.

Andrew folds his arms on his desk, propping his chin on them and making something akin to a pout. “Neil,” he says again, and Neil shivers at the sound of his name in Andrew’s deep timbre. “Stay with me? I’ll stay on call with you all day.”

“Clingy,” Neil teases him, a tingling feeling running up his spine at the knowledge that Andrew enjoys his company just as much as Neil enjoys his.

Andrew scowls. “I just wanna talk to you,” he huffs, and Neil smiles happily, already starting to shove his clothes back in his closet. “I get withdrawals.”

Neil hums. “Yeah,” he agrees, “Me too. Hopefully they’ll get more manageable once you come visit me.”

Andrew says “I don’t know if that’s how it works.”

“You’ll just have to be sure to cuddle me lots, then.”

“It always come back around to cuddling with you, Josten,” Andrew responds, but he sounds fond.

Neil shuts his lights off, closing his closet doors softly and settling back at his computer chair to boot up a game. “Someday,” Neil sighs.

“Soon,” Andrew promises.

_Please take me home_ _  
Too late, it's gone  
I bet you're sad  
This is the best time we ever had_

_~_

With all their new developments, it honestly shouldn’t shock Neil that the truth comes out sooner rather than later.

“You—” Neil begins, stuttering out a reply to the offhand comment Andrew had thrown out during one of their late-night conversations. “You _like_ me?”

Andrew hums across the line, seemingly unaffected, though Neil can hear the careful lacings of anxiety in his tone. “Yes,” he says simply “I suppose you could say it that way.”

Neil stares at him, trying to wrap his mind around this knowledge. “And you—you _knew_ I liked you and you didn’t say anything?” His tone is incredulous, but Andrew doesn’t seem to be feeling any remorse.

Andrew huffs. “I’ve only been sure for a few months,” he begins, ignoring Neil’s indignant sputters “and it’s fun to mess with you sometimes too, you know.” He leans back in his chair, popping his knuckles. “Besides,” Andrew continues, “It’s not like anything is going to change.”

“It is _too,_ ” Neil argues, a bit hysterical.

Andrew shrugs, and Neil tracks the movement greedily. “Not really,” he says. “You already say shit all the time.”

“Not like _that_ ,” Neil says.

Andrew just looks at him for a minute, and Neil’s shoulders drop a little, relaxing slightly. “Okay,” he admits, “maybe a little like that.” He shuts off his computer, warm from hours of talking and gaming before they have moved to FaceTime. He makes his way into his bathroom, propping his phone up so Andrew can watch him brush his teeth.

“Well,” Andrew starts “Now you know. You can tell me all the dirty things you’ve been thinking now.”

Neil chokes a little around his toothbrush, leaning over the sink as some of the foamy froth drips out of his mouth, coughing.

Andrew huffs a laugh. “Hot,” he says, and Neil glares at him, his cheeks burning red.

Neil spits and rinses quickly. “Fuck you,” he croaks, interrupting Andrew before he can make a comment about _that_ , “Does that mean you’re gonna kiss me when we meet up?”

Andrew looks thoughtful for a moment before he simply says “Yes.”

Neil lets out a shaky breath, baffled as to how they’ve finally gotten here. Years of friendship and months of pining, all pulled up to a stop now. Somehow, someway, they’re here.

Neil slips on the hoodie that still smells strongly of Andrew, shutting off his lights and slipping under the covers. Silence stretches before them, and Neil indulges himself a little by watching Andrew’s mouth, imagining what they would feel like against his own.

“If you were here,” Neil begins, perhaps a bit precariously “I wouldn’t have to sniff your sweatshirt like a weirdo.”

Andrew huffs out a quiet laugh, and Neil watches his face shift intently even in the darkness, turning up the brightness on his phone so he can just make out the tufts of blonde hair curling up from underneath the comforter and the delicate line of Andrew’s nose. “What?” Andrew asks, amused, “Would it be less weird if you sniffed me in person?”

Neil breathes in the scent of Andrew’s hoodie pointedly, hugging his pillow and listening to the quiet murmur of his voice through his crappy phone speaker. “Yeah,” he sighs out “Probably.”

“Probably,” Andrew echoes gently, blankets rustling. “If I were there with you I would make you finally change out of that damn hoodie.”

Neil huffs, shuffling his phone up a little until the sheets are out of frame, coaxing a quiet laugh from Andrew. Silence stretches on comfortably, and Andrew hums the tune of a familiar song under his breath across the line.

_Please take me home_ _  
Too late, it's gone  
I bet you're sad  
This is the best time we ever had_

Neil smiles to himself and drags a thumb along Andrew’s shadowed face on his phone screen, imagining a time when he reaches out and feels warm skin instead of cold metal and glass. Andrew hums quietly, as if he can feel the touch despite it all, and Neil hugs his pillow tighter to his chest as he listens.

Neil closes his eyes to the sound of Andrew’s comforting, familiar voice.

 _Someday soon,_ Neil thinks to himself as he listens. He can’t wait to be home.

**Author's Note:**

> I just adore flirty neil okay? I love the idea of them being friends for so long with andrew pining after neil and them both having virtually nothing to go on—no faces, no phone numbers, no nothing—to neil suddenly realizing he’s in love and then tearing shit up. Andrew saying “fuck it” and letting himself give in to Neil. I really liked exploring that kind of relationship where it builds up for ages with virtually no strings attached before suddenly BOOM—flirtation station, sexy pics, love declarations, etc. I think it’s a really interesting dynamic and it’s a lot different from the steady build-up i usually write. I feel like it kinda fit the vibe and idk it was fun writing them go from 0-100 so quick :]
> 
> Enough rambling! Once again i hope you enjoyed the fic greywarren :3 ily!!!
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/5a5b5p5) and on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/andrewsbutterflyknife)
> 
> Comments and kudos fuel me :]


End file.
